


AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!!!!

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: A missing scenes fic contemplating the various sleeping arrangements with the Build crew.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Another Toku Holiday Special (2019)





	AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!!!!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseaole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseaole/gifts).



"This is our hideout," Isurugi Souichi said, leading the man he had just dubbed Kiriyuu Sento through the minifridge and down the stairs into the well-hidden half-finished basement. "I'm afraid it isn't much, but it's the best I can offer."

Sento hardly seemed to hear his words, marveling as he was at the ingenuity of the space and all it held. Eventually, his eyes settled on the bed, and the sleeping form upon it.

"Who's that?"

"My daughter. Misora. She's, well, I suppose you could say she's a little narcoleptic, but she's got hidden depths. I think she just might be able to help you out with… well, with everything."

"Everything?" Sento repeated.

"Yeah! Like getting your memories back. Finding that bat-man you were talking about. Being a superhero. You know. Things like that."

"Ah. Yes." Sento walked a little further into the basement, taking in as much of it as he could. Isurugi could almost hear the gears turning as Sento examined the various knick-knacks and tools he'd scattered about, already evaluating their potential. Eventually, however, Sento turned back to his apparent savior (and oh, he was going to relish that title; it had all come together too perfectly).

"Is there only the one bed?"

Ah, right, That silly little human detail.

"I'm afraid so. But don't worry. As you can see, my daughter sleeps at odd hours. I'm sure you two will figure it out."

* * *

Banjou Ryuuga looked properly gobsmacked. 

Not that Sento blamed him. It wasn't every day you were ushered through a café's fridge to the most amazing secret hideout ever, after all.

He would get used to it. He'd have to—this hideout was going to be his home for the foreseeable future, and he'd be just as trapped here as Misora until they figured out a cunning way to give both a wrongfully imprisoned ex-convict and a reclusive narcoleptic net idol a chance at a semi-normal life. That would take some time, but thankfully, there was always time for a little self praise.

"Well, ain't it wonderful? Ain't it glorious?"

"Ain't what wonderful?" Banjou asked.

"All of it," Sento replied, gesturing around the space. "I designed that machine myself, you know. It's what allows me to create the fullbottles. With Misora's help, granted, but the true genius is in the engineering. And over there is where I can work on my best matches and research new creations. The kitchen, admittedly, hasn't changed much since I arrived, but we have access to Nascita's facilities as well, so that's unimportant. And—"

Banjou looked down at his crotch, checking for the eighteenth time if his fly was still done up. (Sento hadn't necessarily meant to start counting, so much as it was hard not to take note of the man trying desperately not to be caught in that situation again. Banjou, apparently, wouldn't know subtlety if it were to hit him upside the face with a power drill.) His check complete, Banjou scanned the room once more. 

"Wait. Who's help was that?"

Sento smiled. "Ah, right. Misora. She's around somewhere."

That 'somewhere' turned out to be in Sento's fullbottle machine; its completion noise surprising Banjou enough that he almost peed his pants. Which, thankfully he didn't, given as Isurugi had just managed to scrounge him one outfit's worth of more suitable, less covered-in-mud-and-who-knows-what-else ex-con-like clothing. Washing it already would've been a hassle.

And then the rest of the day happened. 

It was messy and heartbreaking, and Banjou was enough of a mess by the end that he practically collapsed into a pile on the floor to grieve when they arrived back home. Misora took pity on him, spreading her winter blanket over the Banjou-shaped lump of exhausted sadness, allowing a little comfort as he drifted in and out of fitful and mournful sleep.

As a result, it wasn't until the next day that sleeping arrangements were properly discussed.

Misora had just crashed into bed, asleep, after creating her third fullbottle in 36 hours when it dawned on Banjou.

"Wait. There's only one bed here."

"Well yeah," Sento replied, not turning away from his bottle-matching project at all. "The space here is limited. What did you expect?"

"More than this apparently."

"Well, this is what you're stuck with, Mr. Wanted Criminal."

"Hey! No fair! That's not my fault."

"Then why were you captured in the first place?"

"I don't have to tell you that!"

"Then you'll just have to deal."

"Fine, but where do _you_ even sleep?"

"In the bed, when I can."

Banjou took that statement in, put two and two together, and came up with something that vaguely resembled the number four.

"So you two sleep together then?"

Sento finally looked up at that, flushed and perhaps a little panicked. "No! I mean, that's not precisely what I mean. We take turns with the bed. Or rather, it's Misora's bed, but if she's off doing something else, then of course I use it. No use wasting a perfectly good bed after all."

"Ah." Banjou wasn't entirely sure he believed Sento's claims, or that he followed the entire panicked rant, to be honest, but either way it left one major question unanswered. "Okay, so where am I supposed to sleep?"

Sento grinned and rubbed the back of his head, composure already back in place. "Ah, that's easy. Dogs sleep on the floor, right?"

"You take that back!!!"

* * *

As it turned out, the floor wasn't so bad. Especially in the winter, once the kotatsu was set up.

Sure, Banjou got scoldings now and again when he accidentally burnt himself on the element, but it was warm and cozy, and the comforter was soft.

Really, it was a nice, warm bed. What more could he want?

Stretching, he walked over to the tiny basement kitchenette, and glanced in the mirror, only to find eyelashes and a swirly cheek drawn on one side of his face, and equations written on the other.

Oh right. Not to live with two people who liked playing pranks on sleeping people. That's what.

* * *

"So, I'm moving in with you," Sawa stated, her voice even and calm as she unpacked the roller suitcase she'd brought containing her belongings. "My apartment isn't safe anymore, after my… recent decisions. I'm almost positive that, were I to stay there any longer, Nanba would have me killed within a week."

Banjou's eyes went wide. "He's really that ruthless?"

Sento sighed. Banjou really was an idiot, after all.

"He trained children to be spies and mercenaries for his company. Apparently so effectively that they were able to become aides to foreign ministers without anyone being the wiser. I'd say that expecting assassination for major disobedience would be par for the course."

"Okay, but then what's gonna stop them from following her here?"

They all turned to Sawa, who simply shrugged and continued unpacking, handing shirts to Misora who seemed overcome with glee at their new shared wardrobe.

"I'm not the first agent who's gone rogue. I know how to cover my tracks. And if I don't, well, I figure I've got better security here than poor Makoto."

Banjou quickly pulled Sento aside. 

"Do we want to know?"

Sento shook his head. The possibilities were enough.

Turning back to Sawa, Banjou put his hands on his hips. "You're on your own for sleeping arrangements, though. I don't know if you've noticed, but there's only one bed here, and it's double-taken. And the kotatsu's mine, so don't even think about touching it."

Sawa just smiled and pointed to the duffle she'd brought with her. Racing over (and causing Sento to laugh at his predictable antics), Banjou pulled out two pillows, a very fluffy blanket, and something soft, rectangular, and a little firmer.

His eyes wide, he turned back to the group. "She brought a _futon_!"

* * *

Sawa wasn't the only one to come prepared; it seemed like Kazumin carried the world on his back when he entered. Or at least his own little home like a snail. There were pots and pans hanging off the side of his pack, and a bedroll rolled up on top, and there was no doubt that there were sheets and provisions hiding inside, along with a couple changes of clothes.

Man, Hokuto may have been a force to reckon with, but at least they knew how to outfit their people well.

* * *

"Hey. I had a great idea." Banjou exclaimed, approaching Kazumin as he cooked the group's dinner.

"Hmph. Somehow I doubt that."

"Oh yeah, well you probably wouldn't know a bright idea if it jumped on you while singing the national anthem."

"Which one? Japan's or Seito's?"

"What difference does it make?"

"I'm from Hokuto. I don't know the Seito one by heart."

"And this is why I'm the genius strategizer."

"That's Sento and we both know it."

"Look, do you want to hear my idea or not?"

"Doubting in its greatness as I may be, sure. What're you thinking about?"

"Well, you've still got your stuff, right?"

"Yeah," Kazumin replied. "I thought that much was obvious even to a chimpanzee like you."

"For the last time call me a muscly meathead."

"A muscly, meatheaded chimpanzee then."

Banjou tilted his head in acquiescence. It was an agreeable compromise.

"Anyway. You also have their stuff too, right?"

Kazumin's face grew clouded. "Whose?"

"Your companions. The guys who were with you earlier. The ones who…." Banjou frowned. "Don't make me say it, dude, you know what you mean."

Kazumin frowned. "I… they requisitioned Kiba's; his death was close enough to the border. But Aoba's and Akaba's…. Yeah. It's at the barbershop still, I think, so unless that old man sold 'em off…."

Banjou nodded. "Look. I know it's a bit of a sore point, and a rough one too, but, like, they have bedrolls, right? And other things that we could use. Do you think it would be all right if we were to…."

Kazumin was silent for a moment after Banjou's speech drifted off, moving to touch each of their dog tags in turn: the blue, the yellow, and the red. Gripping them tight, he nodded.

"Yeah. I think they'd like that."

* * *

They hadn't meant to bring Gentoku home with them.

To be fair, they hadn't been sure what to do with him in the first place.

But they had fought together; he had come and fought by their side. And they would have likely been killed if not for Gentoku's interference. And now…

Now Sawa was salvaging through Aoba's pack for things that might be useful.

A first-aid kit with bandages to wrap and dress his wounds. A bedroll to lie on. (Banjou had chosen Akaba's; apparently it had seemed in better taste.)

Gentoku wouldn't be in a state to move for a while. And by the time he was, who knew if he'd even have a home to return to?

He'd already seen his father killed, after all. There truly might be no home left.

* * *

Seeing Gentoku walk into Nascita in his civilian clothes was the shock of the day, for sure.

But the second biggest shock was when the rich man who was obviously more eccentric than any of them had ever imagined walked down the stairs and asked as if it was the most obvious question in the world, "Okay, so where am I sleeping?"

* * *

It was the first night in a while that they would all be together, all sleeping in the same place. And yeah, things were bleak, and who knew if they would all make it out alive, but hey. It was nice to have the company, right?

"I'm not letting any of you boys near the bed," Misora declared, arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the group in front of them.

"But Mii-taaaan…." Kazumin whined, and Banjou cut him off.

"Wait. So you and Sento have, like, literally shared a bed before but we can't be in the same atmosphere anymore? What's up with that?"

Misora's cheeks tinged pink as she pouted. "That was before. There wasn't--I was--"

Sawa put a hand on Misora's shoulder, giving her usual professional smile. "I believe what Misora means to say is that it's different when there's two of you sleeping in rotation. With all of us, it makes more sense to have boys' areas and girls' areas. And as the bedroom is the smaller space, it makes more sense that we claim it and leave you the main area."

"It's also the area with, you know, the _bed_ ," Banjou countered.

"Yes, and we'll be sharing it," Sawa agreed easily. "That leaves all the futons for you. Including the deluxe king-sized one I bought around the time I moved in. The one you said was so soft you felt like you were sleeping on a cloud."

Gentoku looked like he was about to claim dibs on it, but Sento stopped him, taking his arm and shaking his head. (Good. Aoba's old one still smelled of antiseptic a little thanks to the time Gentoku spent convalescing on it. It was his forever now.)

"It would be fun to just turn the entire main space into one big sleeping area," Sento mused, his mind already racing as he thought of the best way to arrange the mattresses, if the way his hair spiked meant anything.

"See?" Misora said, "Sento's for it. It'll be fine. Maybe we'll all have a good night's sleep for once."

They didn't, as it turned out, but that's a story for another time.


End file.
